


The Ego State

by ErisAcolyte



Category: Undertale
Genre: Drabbles, Fluff, Other, Pop Psychology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 02:20:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7248229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErisAcolyte/pseuds/ErisAcolyte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just something that popped up in my head while I'm between chapters on "The Hardest Thing".  It occurred to me that I've written three very different iterations of Frisk and that made me think of the Counseling course I went on, where we talked about "Transactional Analysis" and, more pertinently, the PAC (Parent Adult Child) model.</p><p>At every point in our lives, we are some combination of the three, but I felt each Frisk leaned more towards one model than the other-- this is the result.</p><p>(And don't worry, I'm going to update "The Hardest Thing" sometime this week, definitely).</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ego State

**Child  
** _The archeopsyche. That which is emotional, creative and impulsive._

 

Laughing loud in the darkness, I drag my skeletal companions to and fro between the glowing, whispering flowers. Vladmir and Estragon, I call them now and then, when moved by whimsy-- but those are not their _true_ names, are they my beloved?

You retreat and scowl as I dance between the blossoms and I do not think you understand-- they _glow,_ my beloved! No earthly petals have ever shone such pallid glory as these pale, blue majesties of the underground.

\--Oh, were that I Persephone, and this skeleton my Hades!--

Ah! Dearest, my boon companion, Death, he is staring at me. My fluttering fingers betrayed me. I would blush, but shame is not for the likes of you and I, my beloved. I laugh, instead and continue laughing...until each flower echoes our joy.

[MythosTale: Mythos!Frisk](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6519160)

 

 

 

**Parent  
** _The exteropsyche. That which can be nurturing, at best...critical, at worst._

 

“T-this isn't right! I s-s-should be doing _something!_ ” Frisk's words come out small and frightened as they curl up small behind a boulder, wincing at the distant sounds of combat. They had come to the Underworld to bring peace and love to the monsters below-- they had promised the Order that they would bring the light of the Yellow God to the Red God's domain.

Why, then, could they not bring themselves to move?

Whimpering, they clutched the golden sun pendant tight and felt the spokes dig into their flesh. It seemed a fitting castigation for someone too crippled by fear to do the one thing they had promised to do. They put a hand to the blossoms that now covered their eyes, the flesh beneath numb and cold.

Shaking, they gritted their teeth together and stood. “N-no more hiding.”

[The Hardest Thing: Cleric!Frisk](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6861667/chapters/15661768)

 

 

**Adult  
** _The neopsyche. That which is fully realised and directed towards on objective appraisal of reality._

 

The light faded as Sans' shortcut brought them, tired but triumphant, back to the surface. The sun was setting over Mt. Ebott, bathing them in welcome warmth and light. Frisk flopped back on the grass, smiling contentedly. Their Soul still pulsed outside their chest, brighter than the light of the setting sun-- now cherry red, now deep purple.

They put out a hand for Sans and he sat, readily, to join them. “Shouldn't you put that away, kid?” He asked, ruefully.

Frisk grinned and did so, sticking out their tongue, but saying nothing, merely keeping hold of Sans' hand and sitting happily, side by side, as the sun went down.

[A Little Dust: Powerful!Frisk](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5954905)

 


End file.
